


Bite Me

by Bubblegum_monroe



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood Kink, Comfort, Familial Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Other, PTSD, Poly Relationship, Public Sex, Vampire AU, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, comfort because i was made to, depictions of trauma, impromptu dancing on tables because youre drunk at a college party, minor gore reference, once again i didnt proof read anything, sexy vampires, theres a cat in this hes a bastard and hes the best damn character, theres vampires theres blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblegum_monroe/pseuds/Bubblegum_monroe
Summary: "She hears the shower run, and in the back of her mind she acknowledges that means Asra has returned. He’s safe. And that means everyone who was there, living, breathing, there is dead. Because of her, it’s all her fault. If she’d been more careful, if she didn’t dress how she did, if she’d been more aware, more subtle. If she’d just been less of an idiot. Less reckless, less of a lovelorn fool, less of a defenseless moron. They’d still be alive."You have to grow up sometime when you're in love with two people who can never truly love you back.





	Bite Me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm borrowing obbets' apprentice celeste again bc theyre the love of my LIFE

She turns the key and the car engine dies. She takes her foot off the clutch and leans back against the seat. Circular sunglasses cover her eyes, and makeup wipes in the back of the car will wipe the last remnants of smudged lipstick.

She spent the night there again, they'd asked her to come over. She couldn't say no, not to them.

_ His hands glide along the back of her calves while the other sinks their teeth into her skin, into her flesh. She hasn't said it but that stuttered gasp from her tells them both that she enjoys it, every single time.  _ _   
_ _ Her back arches off of the bed when he brings his mouth to her clit, fingers roaming where they will. She has wanted to be touched like this for such a long time. _

Hyperion is going to ask where she was last night again. He's going to be worried again. He's going to say she'll get her heart broken once again. 

She looks in the mirror, and runs a hand through messy hair. She needs to buy more dye, the colour is starting to fade again. She'll do that later. She has to pick up groceries later too. She knows they’ll have run out of bread and milk, she knows Hyperion will have of gone out to get them but forgot and bought something else that they didn’t need. But that’s okay, because he at least remembers to turn the dishwasher on and she doesn’t.

She should go now, but she does blatantly look like she’s going out the morning after getting fucked  _ good _ .   
Because that’s what she’s there for: A good fuck. 

She pushes the door open and kicks it shut once she’s out. She doesn’t want to think about it. She needed to put on underwear anyway. She has no idea where she lost it.   
They’ll probably return it to her next time she goes over, if it gets found.

She leans her forehead against the door as she works on unlocking it. A combination lock and a proper key one. Their parents had been adamant about that. And about having their own keys, and about them never changing the code without their permission. They were like that.   
The door clicks and the electric bolt slides across. She turns the knob and opens the door, dropping her keys into the crystal bowl by the door. Kicking off her heels and hissing as she stretches her calves. Always an important step to coming home. 

“ _ Morning _ .” Hyperion calls from the living room, she can hear the sounds of whatever game he’s playing on the t.v. She sits down on the couch beside him, sinking down low into it. Chucking off her sunglasses onto the coffee table and puts her feet up beside them. “You disappeared last night, you good?” He doesn’t pause the game as he speaks, but she can see the tension in his fingers.   
He isn’t worried that she was in danger, they both know that.    
He’s worried she’s being used. 

“Yeah,” She clears her throat and holds her hand out for the controller as the character he’s playing dies. “I went to their place again,” She doesn’t need to say their names because he already knows. “They made me breakfast.” She smiles when she says it. It’d been so sweet of them. It’d felt so… Normal. Domestic.    
That feeling doesn’t last of course. Domesticity isn’t their arrangement, and she couldn’t push that boundary. She wouldn’t. 

“Huh,” Hyperion says simply. Arm resting on the back of the couch above Eos’ head. He’s not so much watching what she’s doing in the game as he is watching her. Her expressions. “You know-”

“I promise I’m being careful,” She isn’t at all. She’s in love and it  _ sucks _ . “Your turn.” She holds the controller out to him and twists to crack her back after he takes it. “It just…”

“‘Sucks so much major ass’?” He pauses the game finally and tosses the controller to the otherside of the couch. “You should stop seeing them, you’re not dealing with it, Eos. Go actually date someone. Or rebound or whatever.” 

“Can we not do this right now?” She reaches over him to grab the controller and starts the game up again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t and no one  _ else _ around you does either. I’m not going to watch you run yourself into the ground, you idiot.” The frustration is clear in his voice, he settles back against the couch. Arms crossing over his chest. “I’m going away this weekend, camping trip. Can you just-- Just promise me that if you go over there you’ll go to a friend’s place after.” 

“Yeah,” Her voice is soft, she knows she gets lonely does he have to  _ remind  _ her how  _ bad  _ she is? “I’ll go see someone, promise.”

( _ Before Hyperion leaves, she sees them again. Kisses rivulets of her own blood off of the corner of Celeste’s mouth as Asra sinks his teeth into her neck. _ _   
_ _ They’re hard marks to hide but she can’t deny how she loves the process of making them. _

_ Their hands are soft as they hold her in place. For all of the pining she feels for them after she sees them, the moments she does spend with them are Heaven on Earth. _

_ Celeste’s hand slides between her thighs, pushing aside the fabric covering her. She can feel them slide down, pulling down the underwear with them. She can feel them press their lips in a trail from her stomach downwards. _ _   
_ _ They push at her thighs and she opens them eagerly.) _

..

She spits up blood onto herself, it dribbles down her chin and onto her shirt. Her head is reeling from the blow to her stomach. Vision blurred but she still sees the movement of her assailant tossing the bat away, hears it clatter to the floor. They grab her hair, a fistful of it, and yank her hair back. Uncomfortably close when they speak into her ear, how long had it been like this? 

“ _ This is what your  _ kind  _ gets _ ,” Their voice is harsh, and they spit on her when they pull away. Striking her with their fist this time, the blow has her cough up another bit of saliva and blood. Tears ran down her face, streaking blood and dirt. She wanted to go home, she wanted to see her brother, she wanted to see Celeste and Asra.   
A voice, so similar in tone to Hyperion’s whenever he tried to ease her away from them echoed in the back of her head.   
‘ _ They aren’t even going to notice, can’t you just let them go _ ?’ 

“I’m not-” She tries to choke back a sob, everything  _ hurt _ . It all hurt so much, it had to have of been days since this started. She just wanted to lie down and forget this all. They didn’t even let her sleep if they could avoid it, she was so, so tired. “I’m  _ not  _ a-”

Another hit. This time to her face, her teeth catch on the inside of her lip. More blood,  _ always more of it _ . She whimpers, trying to curl in on herself. To collapse her chest and fold in on herself a thousand times. To be small, unable to be harmed.

“ _ Please _ ,” She whispers. To her captors? To her brother, herself? To Celeste and Asra? To the God her parents upheld when they did something so similar to this? Her face contorts, “ _ PLEASE. _ ” She screams out, again and again. She wants to go  _ home _ . She wants to feel safe. She won’t say anything, she’ll keep quiet, she just wants to go. 

They thrust her head back, knocking it against something. The impact makes the pain in her head worse and for a moment she’s stunned, silent. Tears still streaming from the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t register the knife to her ribs, not right away. They’re saying something, and by the tone she knows it’s a threat. To stay quiet, to just  _ admit  _ something. 

“I don’t know what you want,” She says, the knife presses harder against her skin. She can feel it slice through.  _ “I don’t know what you want from me _ .” The last few words come out in a sob, the knife retracts but she hardly feels relieved. 

There’s talking around her, and she doesn’t process all of it but she picks some up.   
‘ _ Vampires.’ _ __   
_ ‘Bait.’ _ __   
_ ‘Bite marks.’ _ _   
_ __ ‘Kill her? ’ 

“No, no,” Death might be merciful but she doesn’t  _ want  _ to die. She wants to see her family again, she wants to see Asra and Celeste. She wants to see the  _ sun _ . To breathe fresh air.   
It wasn’t fair. “Please, don’t. No…” She can’t even struggle, doesn’t have the energy or heart for it anymore. All she has is a hope that there can be mercy.

She’s bruised, bloody. She’s certain they’ve broken a few of her ribs, and definitely broke her collarbone. The crack had been sickening, and pain so intense she’d vomited on herself and gotten hit  _ again _ for her trouble.    
She hadn’t broken a bone in a long time, in a long, long time.   
She rolls her head back and looks up at the ceiling. She wished there were holes in it, to see sunlight streaming through or to spot stars. Just to have a hint of the time, of it passing. 

She closes her eyes as she hears someone approach again, praying that if they’re going to kill her it’ll be quick. She just needs it to be quick. 

Behind her eyes, the image of her brother and the vampires that have ensorcelled her heart swims in the darkness. She wishes she could say goodbye. Or ‘I love you’. Or just have them know she’s thinking of them, all of them.   
She wonders if Hyperion is back from his camping trip.   
And if Celeste and Asra have even noticed she’s gone.   
It’d be smart of them to leave her if they knew about this. To not risk themselves, to take it as a warning and disappear. Thank her pain as a signal that someone is after them.

If Hyperion found out about this… she wonders who he’d be angrier at:   
The vampire hunters,   
Her,    
Or the vampires that she’s known about for a long time now.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers to herself just before she opens her eyes again and sees the blow coming for her head. The bat makes a comeback and smacks her right in the side of the head. She’s knocked to the ground, and hits her head upon impact. The world is ringing and dizziness before she blacks out. She sees a boot step into her line of sight before everything disappears.

( _ This isn’t the first time someone knocks her unconscious but it’s the first time it happens without a fist or belt in the mix. Hyperion isn’t there to slow her fall this time.) _

For a while, the world is blissful nothing.   
Unawareness. A reprieve from her own injuries, and from everything that accompanied the situation. Reality could be saved for later, shelved.   
But no one ever said she could choose when she had to shed that nothing and return to the waking world.

The pain she recognizes first. It takes all her effort not to scream. They’ve tied her back up again, ropes tight. She has no doubt there are broken ribs now. She flexes her fingers, they work still at least. She takes inventory, assessing the damage.   
When she opens her eyes nothing has changed. Her blood has stained the ground, and her clothes. It sticks to her skin, dried and crusted. They’ve cut her pants leg, exposing the white scars of vampire bites. The hunters mill about, but for now pay no mind to her.

She can find relief in that. 

Until the screaming starts. It takes a second for her to realise her mouth is firmly shut, she’s silent. Someone else is screaming. Then another one. Something is happening, her heart stutters and flips in her chest. 

There is something coming. Had these hunters pissed a creature of some sort off?    
Would she become collateral damage?

She struggles against the ropes as the hunters run for their weapons. Something- someone?- cuts one down just as they reach for a gun. There’s a flash of white across her vision. She sees Asra hold one up by the throat just as Celeste reaches her. Their fingers curling over the ropes, pulling them apart rather than untying her. She watches as Asra’s other hand thrusts forward, fingers curling into the hunter’s chest and ripping downwards. Pulling at their sternum and ripping it out. Their intestines spilling from the gaping hole in them. As they fall, they hit the ground with a wet sound. Their blood coating Asra’s hand, his arm, splattered over the front of his shirt. She can’t watch it. She blinks and he’s moved, she can’t watch this. A bone clatters to the ground, it reverberates around in her head, she can’t watch this.   
She hears someone else’s neck snap and the thud of a body against a wall as Celeste picks her up. She grips onto them tight, making fistfuls of their shirt. As though if she doesn’t keep hold they’ll disappear and it’ll turn out to be a dream. 

( _ He’s furious. This could not be allowed to go unpunished. These people, these  _ animals _ , hurt her. Hurt Eos, took her from her home, from her safety, and they’ve  _ hurt _ her. _ __   
_ He digs his fingers into the eye sockets of one, thick squelching accompanies the action. Holding their head like a bowling ball. They’re screaming, nails trying to tear at his arm.  _ _   
_ __ Another hunter comes running towards him, so he throws the one in his hand towards them. There in an instant to step on their throat and crush it. Hearing the neck snap under his foot. 

_ This is what happens. He would  _ not  _ allow something like this to happen again _ .   
_ He looks over to them. To the two who have captured his heart so. Wonderful, sweetness incarnate, creative Celeste. Loud and wild Eos. _ _   
_ _ She’s staring right at him, but he knows she can’t see anything she’s looking at. _ )

She feels Celeste’s lips press to her forehead, their hand run over her matted, bloody hair. They’re moving but she doesn’t quite register it, they’re by the chair she was tied to and it’s all she can see and look at. Then it’s gone, she sees the body of the hunter who broke her collarbone. Their eyes still open, as though they’re staring at her. Asra moves into her line of sight but she still  _ sees  _ it.    
She hears their voices, hears the footfalls of hunters running towards them. She hears so much but isn’t listening to anything but the sound of her blood pounding in her ears. 

Celeste adjusts their hold on her, for a moment Asra put his hand on her shoulder.

The next thing she knows, she and Celeste are leaving. There’s someone else screaming, there’s always so much  _ screaming _ . 

It doesn’t take long for Celeste to get Eos inside of their home. To carry her up to the bathroom. The shower is running, Eos’ eyes focusing on the smudge of her own blood on her skin, on their skin. They help her into the shower, not letting go for fear she’ll fall. They say something to her and it takes several seconds for it to even reach her. The water stings. The water is red when it goes down the drain. Her blood is going down the drain. She is covered in her own blood. Why is she covered in her own blood? Why is there so much blood?

“Eos?” Celeste’s voice cuts through the fog that surrounds Eos’ mind, she looks at them. It’s not that their expression is unreadable, she just can’t recognize the emotion right now.

“I- what…?” She blinks, hard. Brow furrowing. Logically, she understands what happened. She knows she was hurt, that they and Asra came for her. That she’s here. But there’s a part of her that hasn’t caught up yet.

Their arms wrap around her, careful of her injuries. It takes a second or two for Eos to return the hug.   
Celeste helps her wash off the rest of her blood and the dirt before they help her from the shower. Working conditioner and shampoo through her hair again and again to try and save it from having to cut the mattes out. The next thing they run is a bath. Eos clings onto the sensations she gets from it, of rose oil and the feel of the bubbles against her skin. They lean her back against their chest in the water. She can feel them whispering in her ear. Their fingers running through her hair.

Every word that comes from their mouth carries with it the mental image of honey sweetened tea and hand picked fruit. They say to not worry now, that she is safe now. They have her now. Everything is okay now. She’s going to be just fine now.   
Eos blinks, and a few fresh tears roll down her cheeks. How can she believe them?   
She has to. For her own sake. 

She wishes she could smile, or laugh, or say  _ anything _ at all. But she can’t find it within her to open her mouth. 

She feels their lips press to the curve between her neck and shoulder. The feeling lingering even when they pull their head back.

Later, when the water goes cold, and Eos’ fingers look like flesh-y prunes. They lift her from the bath, they smile and keep saying something as they tend to her. Drying her off, brushing her hair to get rid of the last of the knots and mattes. She sits still as they braid her hair and pin it for her to protect it from getting tangled and knotty again.

They help her into new and warm clothes, and she tries to say something. Opens her mouth and tries, but she has no words to say. Her heart twists inside of her chest, aching for them, for Asra. For all the comfort they’re giving her.   
They press their lips to her forehead again.

They pull out extra blankets, the ones with the texture she  _ adores  _ so. They hand it to her before they lay it on the bed, letting her rub it between her fingers. The borders made of silk, smooth, the rest fluffy and soft. They help her climb into the bed and curl around her. Tucking her in as their body acts like a shield to the world itself.

She shudders, shoulders hunching even as it agitates her collarbone. A fresh sob working it’s way up her esophagus to her mouth. Their arms tighten around her and pull her closer when she cries. She can’t close her eyes, has to make sure that this isn’t a dream and she isn’t back  _ there _ . Her fingers dig into their clothes. Clinging as tight as she can. She’s  _ home _ \- no, this is  _ their  _ home but it feels safe like  _ a  _ home and that’s close enough. She lays her head in the crook of their neck.

She hears the shower run, and in the back of her mind she acknowledges that means Asra has returned. He’s safe. And that means everyone who was  _ there _ , living, breathing,  _ there _ is dead. Because of her, it’s all her fault. If she’d been more careful, if she didn’t dress how she did, if she’d been more aware, more subtle. If she’d just been less of an idiot. Less reckless, less of a lovelorn fool, less of a defenseless  _ moron _ . They’d still be alive, and Celeste and Asra wouldn’t have of had to come waste their time rescuing her. 

“I’m sorry,” She chokes out just as she feels the weight of Asra settle onto the bed behind her. “I’m so sorry,” she’d put  _ them  _ at risk and now they had to come clean up the mess. This was her fault. What if they’d gotten hurt because of her? This is her fault,  _ her  _ fault. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t  _ mean  _ it.” She’s shaking her head as she says it over and over again. She doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve this comfort, this help they’re giving her. This is her fault, she should be paying the price for it. She should be in so much more pain, she’d  _ deserve  _ it. 

“Oh, no, no,  _ Eos _ ,” Celeste runs their hand over her hair again, Asra’s arm settles over them both. Shielding the rest of her from the outside. She expected him to smell like blood, like viscera. But he smells like the same soap Celeste used on her, warm, flowery. “It’s not your fault, it’s okay.” 

Asra's chin rests on her shoulder, chest to her back. She thinks of what he did. To them.  _ For _ her.

“It's our fault,” His voice is a murmur in her ear against the constant thought of  _ her fault _ . “We didn't think they'd try to hurt you, we're sorry.” His lips press to her hair, she can't move. “This is  _ never _ going to happen again.” 

She closes her eyes, throat tight and  _ choking  _ but she can't keep crying like this. She can't. She's a Dogmatiko, they don’t cry-  _ she _ doesn't cry. Not even when it comes to broken bones and heartbreak and her own mistakes.  _ Her fault _ . This is  _ her doing _ . 

They don't leave her side. Not for the whole night, not even when the sun rises. She's so quiet, fragile as bird bones under feet. They coax her to eat, to look after herself and they are  _ so patient _ . 

In the back of her mind, like black dye in water  anger forms. At herself, at those hunters. She is basically a  _ child  _ compared to these vampires who have done so much for her. Weak, a liability. 

Liability. 

She couldn't even defend herself against  _ humans.  _ Idiotic ones at that. What use is knowing  _ how _ to use a weapon if she doesn't? She should be better than this. She shouldn't  _ need _ to be treated like this, like she'll break at any moment. Her parents would be so disappointed if they knew. So, so disappointed. What use is a daughter that cries and acts like this? Like a child with a scraped knee?

She's so angry at herself because she can hear Hyperion’s warnings and concerns against Celeste and Asra as clearly as she can hear her mother's tut of her tongue and her father's admonishments. 

Yet every time she tries to push herself, to leave to be  _ better _ than this, she just can't do it. Rome wasn't built in a day but she  _ needs _ it to be.

She needs to be the person that she was when they first met, the person she was a month ago, a  _ fortnight  _ ago. The person she built herself up to be.

She just.

Isn't. 

She  _ isn’t _ .  Not anymore, maybe not ever again, and she  _ hates that _ . Hates losing, hates letting go of herself. She hates everything about this situation she’s in.   
It’s her fault but it  _ isn’t _ .    
It’s not her fault but it  _ is. _

She’s not equal to anyone anymore. 

When she first met them, they’d arrived to the party when it was in full swing. A chorus of drunken university aged people, swaying, singing, screaming and laughing to the bass of the songs played on the loudspeakers. People smoking weed in the corners and keg stands in the front yard.

Not the most wild party she’s seen, but it’s the flavour she prefers.

She’d been doing  _ something _ or other when she saw them walk in. A gorgeous white haired couple, arms around each other’s waists, her heart and stomach flipped. Eyes of purple and gold.    
Hyperion shook her out of her own thoughts sometime after, asking her if she was blazed and where she got it. By the look in his eyes, he was far too gone for him to even want to bother. 

“Who’re those guys?” She’d asked, subtly pointing towards the pair, their backs were turned so they didn’t see her extend her arm. A drunk subtle is quite blatant. Hyperion shrugged at her question, people who just wandered in off the street more than likely. She’d ask around, but that’d make her seem desperate.    
No, if Eos was desperate she was going to be subtle about it. And sober. 

They were together blatantly, and rare was there room for her. So she let it be, and drank more and danced on tables. 

_ ~Show me your teeth _ ~

She didn’t know how drunk she was when the song came on, but she did know that it was about rough sex and that everyone was in perfect position for her to make it blatantly clear she wanted to fuck those light haired strangers. If there was one thing she could do, it was insinuate she wanted to fuck through dance and also bedroom eyes.

Her drunken plans were often worse than her sober ones. 

But of course, she also wanted to dance on a table so really she might’ve done it even if they weren’t there.

She’s looking at them, the world is a haze and it’s a miracle she can dance in those shoes and not fall.

~ _ Show me your teeth~ _

She somersaults, legs raised in the air before she spreads them to tap her feet against the table. A grin on her face as she winks at them both. In the corner of her eye she can see Hyperion hit someone on the back of the head for staring.   
One of them, the taller of the two, smirks at her. Despite her drunk haze, she sees it.

It being the way he appears to lengthen his  _ teeth _ for a moment and retract them.   
Teeth.   
Fangs, really.   
Just for her to see.    
She must be more drunk than she thought. But she’s never heard of hallucinating from alcohol, or at least never done it before and she’s been pretty bad before. 

The other option, of course, is far more unbelievable. 

Either way, there’s a distinctive throb between-

Her attention is drawn away when someone sets fire to something just as the song comes to an end. There’s a call to go check it out, someone brought fireworks.   
Illegal, but  _ fun _ . 

There’s a rush from other drunk party goers, she calls out to her brother and leaps from the table.    
Less leap, more ‘falls with a lot more distance than one usually would’. Her brother steps forward to try and catch her, the same drunken excitement and recklessness she feels echoed on his face.    
He’s too far away, and she’s going to hit the ground. Hard. 

Then there’s arms around her legs, hands at her back to keep her snapping backwards and hurting herself or falling. 

“Oh!” She grins and laughs as she’s set down, the white haired strangers she’d been practically eye-fucking the entire night must have moved with the crowd, and managed to catch her just in time. “Oh my  _ heroes _ .” She presses her lips to their cheeks, and misses her mark and lands it on the corner of their mouths instead. Lipstick smearing onto their skin. One of them seems about to say something before Hyperion wraps an arm around her waist and hoists her onto his shoulder to hurry her to these illegal fireworks.    
And to hurry her away from another hook up. 

She reaches a hand out, curling a finger to beckon them after her before bursting into laughter. 

Life was a whirlwind, with calm moments in between parties and events and  _ laughter _ .    
They’d come to an arrangement. Blood and sex.   
They took her out on dates, made her breakfast, they spend so much time with her.   
Hyperion tells her to be careful, to not get invested if she must be involved at all. But she has such an  _ easy  _ heart. So freely given, too freely given. 

He sits on the edge of Celeste and Asra’s bed with her, holding onto her hand. Asking her to just come home with him, he can look after her better than they can. He’s done it before, they’ve both done it before.    
But it’s different. It’s bitemarks and cuts, bruises and broken bones.    
She doesn’t want him to see it. 

She holds his hand and shakes her head.

“I can’t, Hyp’, not this time,” It’s not their parents doing this time. It’s strangers with weapons and a desire to actually  _ kill  _ her, or what they thought she was. “I- It’s, I…” She scrunches up her face, trying to find the words to express her reasoning without revealing too much. There’s so much he doesn’t know,  _ can’t _ know. It isn’t her place to tell him.

He puts his arm around her shoulders, he’s frustrated. But not at her. He doesn’t understand why she won’t come home. 

“It’s okay,” It  _ isn’t _ , “I’ll be waiting when you’re ready,” She should go home, it’s just like every other time they get injured they should deal with it together. “Just let me know if anything happens here okay? I’m not afraid to take those two on.”    
There’s a laugh from downstairs, one of them scolds the other. 

“I’ll be okay,” She leans her head against his shoulder. She always turns out okay with every other time she’s been hurt, this shouldn’t be any different.   
It’s just insanely more intense.    
“I just- Have to do this here, just this once.”

“I know,” He stands up, messing her hair up as he does. Brushing it over her face. “I’ve gotta go, this place is weird enough without me overstaying my welcome. I’ll be back around with some of your stuff though, alright?” She nods and he’s gone. 

It’s an hour and a half later when he comes back, handing her things from home. A toothbrush she didn’t need- she already had on there,- a spare hairbrush, changes of clothes, weighted blankets and a fidget cube. A few other things too in a bag that he didn’t exactly unpack in front of her, but she was sure it was more than thoughtful of him. 

“I’m just going to talk to  _ them _ ,” Hyperion nods to the two vampires standing back a distance behind her, “For a bit alright? I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

She waits in the hallway, the bag of things Hyperion got for her at her feet and the cube in her hands. Her thumb presses on the buttons, rolling it slightly to press them one at a time. She can hear them talking- Hyperion mostly- from where she is.    
It’s sweet, kind of. 

“ _ And you better not even try feeding her-” _

_ “We know, Hyperion, we know. She’ll be fine here.” _

He sounds like a parent more than a brother the more she thinks about it. Her expression sours. She’s not a child, not in this condition, not in  _ any  _ condition.   
She’s not a child.   
Really, she isn’t. 

“ _And just- Just let me know if- Listen if either of you two harm a hair on her head you are_ _going to regret it._ ” 

“ _ We’d  _ never _ hurt her.”  _

_ “Not in a way she didn’t like-” _

_ “ _ **_Literally not the time_ ** .” 

She has to cover her mouth to quiet the groan that accompanies the roll of her eyes. Of course he’d say that to her brother. He couldn’t help himself.    
She doesn’t stick around to see the conversation recover from that. She heads for the bedroom, she’ll have to put her things… Somewhere. In a corner, she’d feel bad if she puts it in their actual wardrobe. It isn’t her home, she doesn’t have that right.    
She tosses the cube up and down in her hand. Every so often just running her thumb over the little buttons on one side. 

She’s not a child.    
Her tightens her grip on the cube as she steps into the bedroom doorway.    
She  _ isn’t _ a child. She isn’t damaged, she won’t be traumatized forever. She’ll be so good again, the Eos everyone met and  _ adored _ .    
She has to be.

Because that’s the Eos everyone loves. The only one she wants them to see.    
That can be controlled at the least. Control is the important part. Control of perception, of belief. One could be anything if one made sure that people only saw certain aspects of another being. 

It isn’t until someone- Asra? Celeste?- puts their hand on her shoulder that she realises how long she was standing there in the doorway.

“Did I space out again?” She asks, her hand raising to cover theirs. Of course she did. Because that’s all she has been doing for the past two days.

“It’s okay,” Asra says, he pulls her hair back behind her shoulder.  _ Of course _ she spaced out. No matter how much she tries to talk herself up that she can get better, she clearly  _ isn’t _ . “It’ll pass, it-” She can feel angry tears building up in her eyes, she wipes at them with the side of her hand and turns around to walk out of the room. To get away from every reminder that she can’t get  _ better _ yet. Asra catches her by her shoulders before she can move passed him. Pulling her to his chest. 

“Asra, let me-”

“You know I won’t,” He rests his chin on top of her head. She needs something he can’t give her, but he can at least do this for her. She turns the cube in her hand, thumb now gently flicking the switch. “What’s wrong? What’s  _ actually _ bothering you?” 

She turns it over again. Joystick. Slow circles.   
“It’s stupid, I’m just-”    
How do you convey something that you can  _ think _ so easily, but words keep failing when you try to actually tell someone? Charades?   
“Adjusting. I’m still…” In her mind she’s still  _ there _ , in that chair. Being tortured and watching Asra rib the bones out of someone’s body at the same time. In her mind she is still covered in her own blood and spit. “Adjusting.”    
If that’s what she wants to call it, go ahead.

“Hey,” He tilts her head up, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “We’re here for you alright? Celeste and I, your brother, we’re all here for you. You take the time you need, don’t try to rush things.”    
His gaze is unwavering, like he wants her to understand something. Something that hasn’t been said outright.    
She’s almost afraid of it. Not of him, not of Celeste.    
Of assuming something that isn’t there, despite it being  _ proven  _ over and over.   
She won’t fool herself, not with this. 

He sighs, and presses his lips to her hairline.   
“Celeste’s waiting downstairs, you should eat something. I’ll put your things away. Alright?”    
It’s so simple really.   
They both  _ care  _ so much.   
She hugs him back now. Far too late now, but her grip is tight and she  _ needs _ this.   
She loves him. She loves Celeste. She would do anything for them.   
Right now they’re doing everything for her, and even if she wishes that they didn’t have to, she’s grateful still. 

Her voice is rough when she thanks him, and he gives her a gentle push down the hallway. She catches his hand as he does so, pressing a kiss to his palm before she disappears to seek out Celeste.

Celeste is soft, honey and warm summers spent under trees. They are starlight and and tentative first kisses and lips pressing to the insides of thighs. Thick sweaters on winter days. The gentle curve in the petal of a flower.   
They are wonderful.    
She has her arms wrapped around their waist, chest pressed to their back and face buried in their shoulder. They’re knitting something, and she’s quite stubbornly wedged herself between them and the couch. 

“Hey,” Eos speaks up, lifting her head up to rest her chin on Celeste’s shoulder. Eyes following the movements of the knitting needles in their hand.

“Hm?”

“Knit me baby one more line.”    
She grins when she feels them chuckle, shaking with it. Pressing her lips to their neck as she runs her hands up and down their waist. Their knitting momentarily halted in favour of laughing. They’re laughing.  _ She  _ made them laugh. Maybe she can get better faster than she thought. They twist around in her arms to kiss her, knitting carefully placed on the arm of the couch. 

Their lips are so soft, the softest. And the noise they make when she bites their lip is  _ divine _ .   
Their hand comes up to her collarbone, their hand pressing too hard by accident.   
They pull back when she whimpers even as she tries to keep them close. To ignore the pain shooting through her shoulder.

“Let me look.”

“It’s fine.”

“ _ Eos _ .”

..

The first time she leaves the house, they all go together.    
She isn’t ready, not  _ really _ . But she has to push herself, so that they don’t have to hold up her dead weight.   
After what happened, it really showed her that’s what she is. A human lover is a liability in this world. In the reality of supernatural creatures.

She tucks a small gun into her jacket, and pretends not to notice their expressions when they see it.   
She’s still so scared.

They stick close to her side and it takes all her willpower to not just beg them to take her back home.   
They’re at a  _ grocery store _ for fuck sake, she can withstand a bread aisle and self-serve checkouts. 

Her hands shake when she picks up a bottle of orange juice to look at the price and amount of juice actually in it. She pretends she doesn’t notice the man a few meters from them who has been staring at the shelves for longer than necessary. Pretend that she doesn’t see the two women talking in the next aisle over, whispering to each other.

She jumps when Celeste loops their arm through her own. Asra standing close to her on the other side. Fingers lightly touching the small of her back.   
She’s relieved really. She puts the bottle in the basket, she can do this. She’s done it a thousand times before, she can do it now. She unfolds her little list of things she needs, hands almost shaking too much for her to read what she wrote on there. Asra’s hand comes up, covering her own to steady it. 

She can’t even hold a piece of  _ fucking paper _ properly.

“Eggs,” She clears her throat, pulling back from the shelves. “I- I need to get eggs.”    
What had she planned to use the eggs for? She couldn’t remember. There was too much going on around her, she can’t quite think straight.    
She takes a deep breath. She needs to calm herself down. Eggs. That’s all she should be concerned with. If there were any real danger, then Asra and Celeste would tell her. They would tell her. 

Eggs. 

She gets better, piece by piece. Slowly coming to terms with slow progress and letting people take care of her.    
She gets better but she’s not the same. You can’t glue something together without still seeing all the cracks. 

She’s laying on top of Celeste, their hand running through her hair. Legs tangled together as they watched Asra attempt to parlay with Garbage, tail swishing from side to side as he eyed Asra’s fingers.

He sits cross legged on the floor in front of the cat. A handful of cat treats held near his head, and his other hand held out towards Garbage. The cat sniffing at his fingers.

“Now, you have to promise me you won’t-”   
Before Asra can finish, Garbage bites down onto Asra’s fingers, tail moving faster as he gnaws down.   
“... Bite.” Asra winces and retracts his hand from Garbage’s mouth range, sighing when the cat chases after his fingers. Climbing onto his lap and putting his paws on Asra’s chest to reach for the hand he now held above his head. “Your determination to devour me brings me ungodly amounts of rage, you oversized bag of vacuum lint.” He whispers to the cat, wriggling his fingers at him. “This is my sisyphean torture, isn’t it?” He looks over at Celeste and Eos. 

Despite herself, she laughs, hand coming up to cover her nose as she snorts and giggles. Celeste joins her, legs rising and their shoulders hunching as they shook with their own laughter. Despite the large cat attempting to climb all over him in search of easily biteable appendages, Asra grins as he watches them. His two most beloved people in the world happy, right in front of him.

He loves them.    
He loves them so, so much.

He picks Garbage up, holding him so that he couldn’t bite and sits down on the couch with them. The cat immediately wriggling out of his arms to go lay himself on top of Eos and Celeste. Purring away happily. 

“Does he  _ have  _ to play favourites?” He reaches over, rubbing between Garbage’s ears. “Honestly, he never bites  _ you _ .”

“Sure he does,” Eos scoots the cat a little bit higher between her and Celeste, grabbing onto Asra’s wrist at the same time to pull him closer to. “I just don’t let him bite me all the time.”

“He’s such a sweetheart, Asra.” Their giggling calms down to a sweet smile, fingers scratching under Garbage’s chin as Asra half lays on top of their legs. 

“You let him drink right out of your teacup. One: gross. Two: of course that’s why he doesn’t bite you.” She pokes them in the ribs, “That’s how I got you two to like me, let you bite a little then putty in hands.” 

“That’s  _ not  _ why we like you-”

“That was a joke. You like me because I explained memes to you.” 

“You went on a complete rant about the etymological origins of the word meme, the origin of long cat, and proceeded to essentially call memes poison after saving several images of John Mulaney memes to your phone.”

Eos blinks, as though that entire incident were perfectly acceptable to even think about in today’s society, let alone actually recite. 

“You’re complaining about me explaining something to you, after you  _ asked _ , and yet you let Celeste let Garbage drink from her teacup. Tell me what’s worse, Asra. You haven’t even touched on the ‘putty in hands’ bit.”

Celeste shrugs and rests her head on Eos’ shoulder just as Asra gets a particular look on his face.

“Is it untrue? Get you a strap-on no one’s going to argue with you.”    
He’s not wrong, there’s something exhilarating about getting two vampires on their knees in front of you. Having them shudder and shiver and  _ wanting _ while you don’t even look close to giving them the sort of release they want.    
Her finger trails under Celeste’s jaw, the memory of the last night’s activities still fresh in her mind. Celeste quivering and Asra unable to even touch himself let alone participate until she let him. Her blood dripping down, hands and mouth slick with it-

“True. Can’t believe you complained about long cat.” 

“He has a point.”

“Betrayal on both fronts. I’m heartbroken. I must dig some trenches, this is-” Celeste kisses her before she can keep going, Asra crawls up further as Garbage jumps off to go find something to push off a table. With a happy sigh Eos brings her arm around him too, hand to his hair to rub her fingertips into his scalp.   
She doesn’t need to say it, that she loves them.  _ Can’t _ at times. It’s terrifying admitting it, displaying so openly that she has love.   
( _ It’s happened before, so they drop like flies. You can’t cling to something too tight because they’ll wrap it around your neck and strangle you with it. Then you’ll be the one left with black eyes and bruised ribs in the morning. _ __   
__ But she loves the people who do it to, in a sick way- in a obligatory way-, so she can’t tell them about it. She doesn’t want change. )   
But she can always have moments like this with them, beautiful moments under moonlight and stars.

She gets better and they take her out.   
They try her usual haunts first.    
She feels like a ghost there. Time speeds up around her as people move to grab drinks or dance or do keg stands or smoke weed in the corners. She tries. She  _ tries _ to have fun, she grabs her drinks but can’t bring herself to drink them and just hands them off. People pull at her to dance, men, women, Celeste and Asra intervene when they’re insistent. 

She misses fun. Misses people. But not like this. There’s too many all at once and she asks to go home early. 

They do not try again for another month. They bring her somewhere quieter.    
Quieter was not the word for it. It is bigger, spread out.    
A night club has advantages like private rooms that overlook the party. It is not a usual haunt but reminiscent of one. The grown up version of house parties.

She supposes that this is what immortals, and the mortal lovers of immortals, must do. One cannot hang around college campuses forever, you have to grow up some time.

It is not the same, but it is similar enough. She drapes herself over the railing, sipping on some drink one would never find mixed by smashed college students. She likes it. It’s fancy. She watches men try and fail to pick up women, watches more successful ones (She can tell they have money, they dress like her cousins) walk off with them upstairs to their own private areas. Above all, she tries to keep her legs crossed to ignore the butterfly vibrator that Asra and Celeste had not so stealthily handed to her before she’d gone into the bathroom just a few minutes ago. 

They’d yet to turn it on, and the anticipation was  _ killing  _ her. They’d told her to sit by the railing while they sat back on the couches. Where they could see her, watch her. Where if anyone looked  _ up  _ they could see her.

She wants  _ them _ to touch her and they know that. They  _ also  _ know she will have great difficulty keeping quiet. If anything she should hope that the music and talking below them will muffle her. 

Her dress is backless, and her neckline plunges  _ low _ . She wants Asra’s hands to trail along her spine, for Celeste to slip the straps down her arms and expose her chest. She wants them to pin her between them, to bite her, to have their way with her until she’s crying from exhaustion. 

She sips at her drink again, tilting it a little higher to finish it off. She wants another one. 

She stands up, placing the now empty glass beside all of the others. She’s buzzed, nothing more.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” She smiles at them, mind focusing on her one task. Get drink. Consume drink. Repeat. She can feel the vibrator resting against her, inside her, but for now it isn’t her main concern.

“Be careful on the stairs,” Asra says, lifting the drink he’d gotten at the start of the night in salute. Two hours ago. He hadn’t sipped it yet, it was more of a prop than anything. Something he could wave around and, self admittedly, look particularly cultured and important.

She raises an eyebrow at his words, though rolls her eyes and carries on. She’s not  _ that _ drunk. She’s barely drunk. She’s completely fine, basically sober.

She’d said, in reply to that, that there was nothing cultured about a vampire who kept hoarding weirdly coloured rocks of various sizes.

She walks down the small platform to the stairs, barely a quarter of the way down before it started.   
She stumbles, legs pressing together as she grips onto the railing. Though her cheeks were beginning to warm from her drinks they were hot now.

Mercifully, it is a muffled vibration inside of her and against her clit yet quite the  _ powerful _ one. She brings a hand to her mouth, clapping it hard against her face to keep herself quiet. Looking up to the railing where they’d set up for the night.    
They’re not standing directly there, but she can see from this angle Asra and Celeste’s white hair. Can  _ smell _ the smug attitude from there.

They’re going to kill her one of these days.

They can’t see her, or maybe they can from their angle, but she’s glaring at their direction.

The vibration stops and she continues her descent.    
They couldn’t  _ possibly  _ have started this before, or after, she went for another drink, could they?

It happens again, twice before she reaches the bottom of the stairs and she has to work to keep herself both  _ silent _ and seem more like she’s drunker than she is rather than having one of her lovers turn a vibrator on with a remote while they watch her from upstairs. 

Their game continues as she weaves her way through the club to find the bar.   
Where was the bar again?   
She leans against half walls and sits at empty seats (this does her no favours) when they decide to play with her. 

She’s trying not to sweat, not to moan. She bites at her lips and though it’s  _ irritating _ she can’t wait for the next wave.    
She presses her thighs together, she can see the bar she just has to make it there and back. She can feel it start up again, the way it vibrates and pulses inside of her. She ducks behind one of the halfwalls where no one but the balcony can see her.

She bites down on a knuckle but her moan cuts through anyway. There is a tightness in her stomach. A build up. Sweat beads at the nape of her neck, her other hand moving just to slide over her breast.   
They have said nothing on whether or not she can touch herself. She pinches her nipple through the fabric, head tilts up to stare right at her lovers. To see that they have positioned themselves against the railing. She sees the remote in Celeste’s hands, the way Asra presses his hips towards them to hide from her the growing tent in the pants he wore. 

She slips her fingers into her mouth, not breaking eye contact as she slides them along her tongue. Her hand moves down from her breast to her hip, slowly bunching the skirt of her dress up, pushing it out of the way. Inch by inch calf exposed, thigh exposed, underwear revealed. She pushes it aside, pushes it down so they can see. 

They won’t touch her from up there, no, but she can touch herself and imagine them doing it. 

She holds her dress out of the way as she takes her hand from her mouth, sliding her fingers along the vibrator- slick and wet- and pushes a finger inside of herself beside it. Then another, curling them inside of her.    
The music is loud, so she moans out their names. Pushing her fingers in and out as the vibrator picks up in intensity. Her legs spreading that bit wider, her back pressing against the wall harder. She can picture them down here, with her. Celeste’s fingers cold inside of her, she slips another finger into herself, trying to emulate what they would do to her. She can almost feel Asra’s fangs at her neck, at her breast, at her thighs. Biting down, lapping at the blood that comes from the bite. Can taste it on her tongue as she pictures him kissing her. 

She lets go of her dress, hand pressing to her mouth. She can just picture Asra pressing his cock into her and filling her up, Celeste sitting themself on her face. She would eat them all day everyday if she were able.    
There’s a pressure building up. She’s so wet, so close, so  _ needy.  _ Just a few seconds longer, just a little bit longer and she can cum. Right down here, where they can’t even reach. They’re the ones who started this game, she’s just here to finish it.

She can almost hear them-

Her phone is buzzing

Can almost hear them whisper to her-

Asra holds up a hand to his ear, thumb and little finger spread.    
Why are they calling her  _ now _ ?

She takes her hand from her mouth, reaching for her pocket to grab her phone.    
Celeste texted her, she unlocks her phone to look at it.

‘ _ Your glass is still empty, weren’t you going to grab another one? 💋 _ ’

This is a cruel and unusual punishment. But she knows they won’t let her finish at all if she doesn’t comply.    
She takes her fingers away as the vibrator dies down, just a gentle vibration now. So very cruel. She shoots them a glare and pulls a napkin from an empty table to wipe her fingers off before she returns to her quest to grab her drink.

She doesn’t look up at the balcony when she waits at the bar for her drink. She’s ordered two, to give them less of a chance to tease her like this again. She can’t believe them.

She smiles at the bartender when they slide the drinks over to her, she turns around. Finally. Her one goal from the beginning of this night.   
Alcohol. 

She steps forward and looks up. Head instinctively turning towards the commotion near the front of the club. Someone important must have arrived, there’s quite the posse of people there.

She frowns, taking a few steps closer. Some of them almost look familiar. Perhaps she’s seen them in a magazine, which means it must be some form of celebrity then.

“ _ Mum _ ?” 

She hears the words before she even realises what she’s seen, or what she’s said.    
It’s like a slap in the face. Improvement, a night of drinking and sex, it was supposed to be an  _ improvement _ , met with… this. 

It’s too soon. Too close. 

A bat coming for her face. Their mother’s hands whipping their father’s belt towards him. She reaches out to cover Hyperion. The hunters break her collarbone. Her father throws her down the hallway. Her father slaps Hyperion so hard he falls to the ground. Her mother spits at them and a moment later when guests come her hands smooth their hair down. Their father puts his hands on their shoulders and says he’s so proud of his children. The hunters grip her hair so hard she thinks they’ll tear her scalp off. 

  
  
  


Her breathing picks up, shallow and quick. The world moves around her. She can see them coming up the steps. She should go, she should run, she should  _ move. _ Why isn’t she moving? Her drink spills down her hand they’re shaking so hard.

Where’s Hyperion? She needs Hyperion. Why isn’t her brother here, surely if she looks he’ll be there. She has to look, she has to go. 

She puts her drinks down on a random table. She has to go. She needs to find Hyperion.

She stumbles as she tries to find her way through the crowd. There’s so many people. Are they going towards her parents? Don’t they  _ know _ ? She pushes passed a couple, a little too rough but she has to  _ go _ . One of them grabs onto her arm. He’s saying something, but she can’t understand him. There’s a buzzing in her ears and it drowns everything out. Static dogs her footsteps, if she doesn’t keep moving it’ll swallow her whole. She has to go. 

She tries to rip her arm from their grip, tries to get out but his grip is too tight. Why is he so angry? She needs to  _ leave _ . Why is he so angry?

Hands settle on her shoulders, pulling her close to someone. Back to chest. She sees white hair, Celeste on her right, arm looping through her free one. Asra, behind her? Where is Hyperion? He should  _ be  _ here. 

“Is there a problem?” Celeste’s voice cuts through the buzzing in her ears. The static pauses, waiting.   
Where is Hyperion?

“That bi-” 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Asra tsks, she can’t see it but she can feel him tense. His fingers tightening on her shoulders. The man’s face contorts, about to argue. 

“I wanna go home,” Her voice is small, and she’s shivering. Trembling. She needs to find Hyperion. Is Hyperion here? He must be at home. He has to be at home. They’ll take her home, won’t they? 

Asra leans his head down, hand coming down to run his hand over her hair.    
“We’ll take you home, baby, just breathe, okay?” 

The world blurs from there, she doesn’t remember what happens after that. She remembers the car, the steps leading up to the door. Crying when they got inside, crying when she’s  _ safe _ . They don’t understand, and she  _ can’t _ tell them. Not without Hyperion. It’s  _ his  _ story too. She can’t say anything. She won’t say anything. 

She was doing so well.

She’s fine the next day, and the day after that. But she makes hushed calls to her brother when she thinks they’re sleeping on the other side of the house. They can’t quite make it out, but her tone is scared. Ashamed.

She won’t tell them what’s going on. It worries them. 

But she’s fine.   
She’s fine.   
  
It’s a few weeks after.   
She’s making herself breakfast in their kitchen. The sun has still yet to ri but she’s hungry like she always is after the kind of night they just had. She’s frying bacon, mixing it in with her omelette in the other frying pan. 

They should be asleep, the sun will rise. But they like these moments, when she’s just in her pajamas doing simple things like this. Celeste sits in Asra’s lap, his hands rubbing small circles against their hips.    
It’s a soft moment, domestic. 

She flips the omelette, sliding it onto a plate. Too impatient to wait for it to cool before she tries to fork some into her mouth. She swears and drops the fork back onto the plate, sticking her tongue out at them when one of them giggles. 

She slides the plate over the counter and walks around it, kissing their cheeks before she sits down. Poking at her egg concoction while she waits for it to cool. 

There’s bite marks on her neck, on her chest and over her thighs. Dotted between hickeys, small fingerprint shaped bruises where someone had squeezed too hard for too long. Her lipstick is smudged, but still there for the most part. Neither of them mention it, she might try and fix it.   
As if there were something to fix.

Celeste reaches out, gathering Eos’ hair into their hands. Running their fingers through the messy strands to smooth them out. She smiles, soft and sweet, at the gesture. Eyes closing to just enjoy the moment. There’s a few tangles, but their fingers make short work of those. They pull her back gently, getting her to rest her head on their chest. Celeste’s fingertips press against her scalp, moving in slow circles.

“What’re you trying to do? Suck my brain out? Is my blood not enough anymore?” Eos grins up at them, continuing to poke her fork at the omelette.

“Absolutely. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” 

“Betrayal, I’ll be suing you for this. Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed? Go on, get.” 

They kiss her goodnight (goodmorning?) and leave her to her breakfast. She’ll rejoin them, once they’re asleep. Cuddle up to them.

Or she would have.

Later in the morning, after she organizes her emails, Hyperion comes around.   
Grim faced, reluctant. He hands her an envelope.    
It’s from their parents- they didn’t know she’d moved in with other people. That she  _ had _ other people. 

“Charity ball?” She turns the envelope over in her hands, it has a few tickets inside. More than enough for her, Celeste, and Asra. They probably wanted her to give them out, or rather that’s what they’d say. She didn’t have the sort of rich friends her parents would accept.   
At least none that could go out during the daytime. 

“As usual.” Hyperion looks no less thrilled than she does. He knows they’ll be paraded as their parents beloved children, and it’s more sickening than what goes on in private. They’re living a lie. Every damn time. 

“Bringing anyone?” She knows he won’t. Even if he had someone to bring, why would he? He didn’t want to expose anyone to the glitz and glam their parents put out, if they ever told anyone it’d make it that much harder for them to believe it.

“Rather die.”

“You just might.” She snorts, putting the tickets back into the envelope. She’ll need them for later. For herself at the least, she doesn’t know if she even can bring Asra and Celeste to this… gross display of wealth and false care. 

“You?”

“Be suicide.” Rocking up with not one, but  _ two _ dates? Her parents might kill her, they’d think it was an embarrassment. A mark on their reputation. Their daughter the bloodwhore.   
Not that they’d know about the vampire aspect. She’d never tell them that. They might kill them, or worse, want to be  _ like  _ them. She couldn’t do that to the world. “See you there then?”

“Wouldn’t make you go alone, also would rather avoid getting hit for not going.”

He leaves her, with an envelope of invitations and tickets, and a whole lot to think about. 

She doesn’t want to go with just Hyperion there. There’ll be so many people, too many people. Asra and Celeste are so comforting for her.   
This event is too soon for her to go to alone.    
She just doesn’t want them to know anything about her parents. That’s bad, for her. 

They know she goes out sometimes once or twice a year, to see them. Before all of… What happened. Knows she doesn’t talk about them, doesn’t like to. They never call. She doesn’t know what they think of that.

What they’ll think of this. 

She sits in the living room. Envelope on the coffee table, she’s curled up on the couch. Just staring at it.    
She should go join them in bed, at least sometime before they wake up. They’ll miss her. They’ll know she didn’t come to bed. 

There’s too much at stake, and she’s so used to playing the game without anyone else involved that she doesn’t know how to anymore.

Because that is what it is, right.   
Just a game. 

( _ Hyperion sneaks her out of their room that night and walks her down the street. There’s bruises on their ribs and shoulders, her lip split. He walks her down the street and they buy ice cream and they sit together in a bus shelter as it rains.  _

_ “You’re not stupid, Eos,” He says, his expression is hesitant. Like their parents might here, even now. Like they might get in trouble if they’re too loud. “You’re just-” _

_ “Don’t,” She knows what he’ll say, trying to be nice but not hitting the mark. “I already know.”  _

_ “It’s not like it’ll be like this forever-” _

_ “Hyperion-” _

_ “We’ll turn eighteen and we’ll leave. We’ll… We’ll go on a whole country tour thing. We’ll go everywhere. We’ll leave and we won’t come back. We won’t ever come back. We’ll never see them again.” _

_ It’s wishful thinking, they both know it won’t happen. _ _   
_ _ But they need it. Because no one else is going to ever tell them it’s okay. _

_ “Never?”  _

_ “Not once.” _

“ _ And no one’s ever gonna know?” _

“ _ Never.” _ )

She picks the envelope up, turns it over in her hands. For such a simple thing, it holds so much danger inside. Danger for her. For Hyperion.    
There’s so much that could be revealed with the wrong expression or movement from her or Hyperion if she brings Asra and Celeste. They’re more observant than most. 

Too observant at times. 

Besides, she doesn’t even have anything to wear to this event. She should just stay home, eat ice cream on the couch and make fun of Asra and Celeste. Ignore her parents and have them hurt Hyperion when they can’t hurt her. 

It’s selfish.

She’ll go alone.

Or she could take them. It’ll be a beautiful night out, they could avoid her parents if they tried hard enough. They’d look gorgeous, and she could fall for them again and again. Dance with them, spend a night at a stupidly stuck up party and make fun of it for hours and hours. It’d be so beautiful with them around.

But that’s just a fantasy isn’t it?

She slips the tickets out.   
There’s more than enough. More than enough to toss away, to keep and feel guilty about, to give away. One to use.

She didn’t have anything to wear. She’d have to go buy something. Or get something made. That meant talking to people her parents knew, how they’d go  _ on  _ and  _ on _ about how generous they were. There’d be fittings and needles.   
She’d come out elegant. It made it worth it. Half the battle would be steering the designers away from certain fabrics. 

“Look at me, upset over getting invited to a fucking party. Charity ball. Same thing. When did I ever turn down free drinks?”

Drinks would be free, right? It’s the only way she’ll get through the night. 

She has to be careful. When it comes to her parents and involving other people with her family life, it’s a careful dance. A walk across a tightrope. You can never say too much or too little, you have to say nothing while people walk away think you’ve told them everything.

She has to play that game, even with Asra and Celeste.   
The alternative is mortifying, vulnerable and terrifying. She couldn’t do it. Not to herself, and not to Hyperion. It’s not just her story, it’s his too. 

She doesn’t have the right to share something that’s not her own and her own alone.    
She has things to do today.

Instead she goes upstairs and gets in the bed with them, they’re already fast asleep and dead to the world. She presses the bridge of her nose to the back of Celeste’s shoulder, arms wrapping around their waist from behind. In his sleep, Asra’s arm drapes over them both, pulling the two of them closer.

She’s happy here.   
She doesn’t  _ need _ to go anywhere if she can’t tell them the entire truth to it. 

And she knows she can’t tell them, she  _ knows _ because they won’t understand or they’ll do something drastic or something else will happen.   
It’s better not to disturb those waters.

She closes her eyes and just breathes.    
She doesn’t need to be anywhere but here.


End file.
